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Ramana Maharshi's Death experience and Yoga Nidra
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Whether we and our politicians know it or
not, Nature is party to all our
deals and decisions, and she has more votes, a longer memory, and a sterner
sense of justice than we do.
There is a way between voice and presence
where information flows.
In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes.
by Sarah Hughes on Facebook
The beauty of the heart
is the lasting beauty:
its lips give to drink
of the water of life.
Truly it is the water,
that which pours,
and the one who drinks.
All three become one when
your talisman is shattered.
That oneness you can't know
by Enea Bozeglav on Facebook
"Deep in my looking,
the last words vanished.
Joyous and silent,
the waking that met me there."
Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them
on what is beautiful in this
world. I fold them in prayer, and they draw from the heavens light.
~St. Francis of
If I spent enough time with the tiniest of
creatures, even a caterpillar, I
would never have to prepare a sermon, so full of God is every creature.
by Kia Pierce on Facebook
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
~Thich Nhat Hanh
by Nita Prem on Facebook
"If a man wishes to be sure of the road
he treads on, he must
close his eyes and walk in the dark."
by Bill Lindley on Facebook
photo by Alan Larus
The Sowing of Meanings
by Thomas Merton
See the high birds! Is theirs the song
That dies among the wood-light
Wounding the listener with such bright arrows?
Or do they play in wheeling silences
Defining in the perfect sky
The bounds of (here below) our solitude,
Where spring has generated lights of green
To glow in clouds upon the sombre branches?
Ponds full of sky and stillnesses
What heavy summer songs still sleep
Under the tawny rushes at your brim?
More than a season will be born here,
In your world of gravid mirrors!
The quiet air awaits one note,
One light, one ray and it will be the angels spring:
One flash, one glance upon the shiny pond, and then
Asperges me! sweet wilderness, and lo! we are redeemed!
For, like a grain of fire
Smouldering in the heart of every living essence
God plants His undivided power
Buries His thought too vast for worlds
In seed and root and blade and flower,
Until, in the amazing light of April,
Surcharging the religious silence of the spring,
Creation finds the pressure of His everlasting secret
Too terrible to bear.
Then every way we look, lo! rocks and trees
Pastures and hills and streams and birds and firmament
And our own souls within us flash, and shower us with light,
While the wild countryside, unknown, unvisited of men,
Bears sheaves of clean, transforming fire.
And then, oh then the written image,
schooled in sacrifice,
The deep united threeness printed in our being,
Shot by the brilliant syllable of such an intuition, turns within,
And plants that light far down into the heart of darkness and oblivion,
Dives after, and discovers flame.
from Selected Poems of Thomas Merton, by Thomas Merton
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